Youth of devastation Chapter 4
by Sympathy4lucifer
Summary: Introducing Michael Oswald Mier, also known as The Black Wolf.


**Youth of devastation Chapter four**

Asleep he dreams of his hometown on a summer plantation, nothing can extinguish the repulsions in his detailed memory. He remembers receiving beatings as a child, learning how to believe the Caucasians were superior in Mississippi and the rest of the south. He smells his male perspiration in the blazing sun; he tastes the orange juice in his dry mouth, and hears the messenger informing him that his father shot his mother and younger brother than took his own life after learning that the North was winning. He enlisted for the Union army after that, it was challenging for him to do but he coveted his redemption so he spoke in a rough northern accent when he was required to. But something darker haunted him that night, what he did at the church after he lost his closest Family. The things that priest said before he departed from the church. How it all occurred was enough to wake him up drenched in sweat.

He dresses in a brown button down shirt, dark blue jeans with black and white converse. He cooks then consumes his breakfast; he feeds his Russian blue cat named Shakur. He detests traffic just the same as the people throwing rude gestures after he honks at them for cutting him off. When he finally reaches Western view junior high it is a quarter till seven a.m. and the air smells of premature pollution and wet grass. The radio is playing "The sound of silence" strangely the song stays with him all that day. He first teaches Biology to yawning sophomores and unhappy juniors and towards the end of that depressing Monday, Earth science was an exhausting attempt due to the amount of freeloaders. The staff and pupils rejoiced as the final bell permitted them to disperse; then he finally realized that after three p.m. all they care about is leaving, and all his interesting facts that could give them advantages them later in life only echoed in the noiseless classrooms.

Tension built even worse when he almost lost his waiter job for spilling the pitcher of water as he was contemplating why that petite senior girl let`s that fat junior slap her around all the time. He forgot the customer`s order when he was loathing at the memory of that kid who shoves freshman around for his own pleasure. No one could understand how he could go from a cheery mood to a sudden rage. His sinister memories creep up on him without notice and they could take whatever jobs they pleased, they would walk around haughtily and shove whoever is walking in front of them just to get a few annoying scoffs in. There is no reason to start a conversation with them because of the constant interrupting they desired so much they would incline their heads back and cackle like witches after sacrificing an infant. Indestructible was a great word to describe these recollections that drove him to take long bathroom breaks and hold his ears in silent dispute. The reputation of a newborn killer loitered in his veins as his photographic memory mocked his tranquility until he fell asleep at home.

The glass broke against the weight and momentum of the large brick, the window was now just a hole in the wall. Unfathomable screams came from alarmed pedestrians while makeshift bonfires ravaged the buildings of deprived storekeepers. Without hesitation he placed Shakur in his bedroom before shutting and locking the door, he activated a mechanism below the mantel piece which opened a secret door behind above his couch. As the door lifted he grabbed a dim black metallic armor and a thick leather eye mask which he put on and a moment later he was rescuing wounded children. A man attempted to stab him in the back but he trapped him in a wristlock and jabbed him in the throat before kicking him in his groin. A delinquent pointed a handgun at his chest but he rushed towards him wrapping his arms around his waist and smashing his lower back onto a fire hydrant. The loaded weapon discharged blowing out a streetlamp and sending the shattered glass onto his back.

Minimal impairment was done to his outfit, and he had built the costume from pieces of discarded Superhero and villain suits. This project had cost him five grand and tedious months to establish it. The getup could not be damaged any further; he took out three thugs with throws, roundhouse kicks to the side of the head, and choke-slams. The final criminal was put into a painful submission hold, he questioned the man; "Why are you deciding to harm innocents, huh?" in his grip but he refused to speak so he put his knees on his back and pulled his arm further behind his back. The man shrieked as his shoulder was burning from the pain, "We're being paid to do this, by some rich guy nam-" his mouth began to foam and he shook violently on the cement until he perished. Whoever was behind this crime had access to radical equipment, and they were trying to gain media attention through random acts of violence. He helped the civilians to their feet after the brief battle with the hooligans. Within twenty five minutes three news channels had arrived and the hero of the night was once again a middle-class high school teacher named Michael Oswald Meir.

To be continued…


End file.
